


All is Calm, All is Bright (and Gareth Mallory is a lying liar who lies)

by soufflegirl91



Series: Anon Prompt Gift Exchange 2020 [3]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Gareth Mallory's very bad no good week, Gen, Humor, don't talk about what happened on Wednesday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28111758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soufflegirl91/pseuds/soufflegirl91
Summary: Gareth Mallory would not normally say he was easily stressed out.But this was not a normal week.
Series: Anon Prompt Gift Exchange 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036050
Comments: 19
Kudos: 44
Collections: MI6 Cafe Collections, Mi6 Cafe Prompt Fills





	All is Calm, All is Bright (and Gareth Mallory is a lying liar who lies)

**Author's Note:**

> For this week's anon prompt gift exchange. 
> 
> Prompt: M solemnly swore never, ever to let Moneypenny go on holiday ever again.
> 
> Eternal and undying thanks to Christinefromsherwood for her eyes, patience and those brilliant little ideas for minor tweaks that just elevate the whole damn thing. I would be lost without you.

Gareth Mallory considered himself to be a calm man.

Anyone who met him would likely describe him as “unruffled” - indeed, he hardly seemed to be ruffleable at all. One couldn’t deal with politicians, spies and Accounts Payable all day if they were. They would never make it halfway up the ladder, never mind to the very top.

No, Gareth would not normally say he was easily stressed out. 

But this was not a  _ normal _ week. He was beginning to wonder if it really was only  _ one week _ , or if time was playing a terrible, horrible, no good trick on him. 

He looked longingly at the calendar for the third time that morning.  _ Surely _ it had been longer than four days?! And there were still three more to go! Yes, two of those were  _ technically _ the weekend, but M hadn’t had a full weekend at home in months.

How was he going to manage? 

_ Beep _

“Your 10 o’clock appointment is here, sir. Shall I send him in?”

10 o’clock…. Who had he arranged to see at 10 o’clock? Was it Q? A? The Foreign bloody Secretary?! 

He couldn’t remember. 

And it would be  _ fine _ , if he ever had a moment to turn on his bloody laptop and check his bloody calendar for once, but  _ no!  _ He was always rushing from one meeting to the next with barely enough time to get himself a bloody  _ coffee _ before the next one started. And when he  _ did _ have time between meetings, he had reports to read, and budgets to sign off, and-

“Sir? Shall I send him in?”

“What? Oh. Yes, yes. Show him in.”

-and  _ normally _ , Moneypenny knew his calendar inside out. She knew when to make him a drink, or remind him who his next meeting was with, or prod him to actually go outside and see the daylight when he had a break. 

But  _ this _ week...

“Very good, sir. Sending him through to you now.”

Whoever the hell his next meeting was with, Gareth was about to find out. Maybe once he came through the door, Gareth would also remember what this bloody meeting was meant to be  _ about. _

Three more days. 

Only three more days. 

He could do this. It was  _ Friday _ . No one scheduled anything important for a Friday. 

Did they? 

Besides, it wasn’t like the week had been a  _ total _ disaster. 

Ok, there had been that clusterfuck of a mission in Minsk on Monday, but 003 was going to be  _ fine _ once he recovered from surgery. 

And on Tuesday, one of the new starters in Q Branch had only  _ nearly  _ caused a building-wide evacuation. They’d managed to contain the hallucinogenic smoke from that grenade he’d dropped down to just the armoury. Of course, that had left  _ Q _ locked in the armoury with 007 for six hours waiting for the effects to wear off, but they’d at least managed to lock down the weapon safes before the drugs took hold. 

_ Most _ of the weapon safes. 

Then, on Wednesday…

On the other hand, better not to think about Wednesday. 

But Thursday had gone pretty well, Gareth thought. No missions had gone tits up, they hadn’t made the news, no one had dropped something they shouldn’t… No, it had just been a full day of  _ budget meetings. _

Whoever it was who had scheduled all of the quarterly budget meetings on the same day, Gareth was going to find them and he was going to string them up by their little toes and let the agents play piñata with them. 

He had a terrible feeling it had been himself.

Still! Today was Friday, and nobody scheduled terrible meetings for Fridays, not even him. What could possibly go wrong today?

There was the click of the automatic lock disengaging, and the  _ whoosh _ of the door opening. Q walked in, sporting a split lip and a rather spectacular love bite on his neck from the Tuesday incident. Gareth resolved not to mention it. 

“Ah, Q, good morning. What can I do for you?”

Gareth’s stomach dropped at the confused look Q gave him. Clearly, he had forgotten  _ something. _

“You asked me to come and see you, sir? About a prospective mission for 007?”

_ Fuck. _

“Right, yes, that.” Gareth searched frantically through the file folders piled high on his desk. Surely it must be there  _ somewhere _ . What had it been? “007’s mission to...” 

“... to Djibouti, sir.” Q was looking even more worried, now. 

_ Christ, _ he couldn’t even remember  _ where _ he was sending his best double-oh agent, let alone  _ why. _

“Yes, of course. Djibouti…” He shuffled the files around once more, hoping it would -  _ there!  _ “Ha!” 

“Are… Are you alright, sir?” 

“What? Yes, yes. Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

Clearly, he may have sounded a bit more defensive than he’d intended, because Q’s expression turned pitying.

“Back on Monday, is she, sir?”

Gareth slumped back in his chair. Of course Q would cut right to the chase.

“Yes, thank bloody Christ. Is it that obvious?”

“Oh, not  _ obvious, _ sir.” Q avoided his gaze. “I wouldn’t say  _ obvious. _ ” 

_ No, you’d say something  _ completely _ different, like “crystal clear,”  _ Gareth thought uncharitably. 

“Where was it she-?”

“Lake Como. Apparently Bond recommended a villa.” 

“Oh, right, he did say. I forgot. It’s meant to be lovely this time of year.”

“So I hear.” 

There was an awkward pause, before Gareth cleared his throat.

“Right! Well. This mission…” he trailed off, meaningfully, hoping Q would take the hint and change the subject.

“Oh! Of course. Well, he’s scheduled to fly from Heathrow on Sunday at 0630…” 

As he let the details wash over him, Gareth solemnly swore never, ever to let Moneypenny go on holiday  _ ever  _ again.

_ She _ would never have let 006 come storming into his office in just his pants while Gareth was on a video call to the Prime Minister on Wednesday. 


End file.
